


All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man.

by devilscut



Series: There are nights when the wolves are silent and the moon howls. [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mating Bond, POV Stiles, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:23:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devilscut/pseuds/devilscut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A shell-shocked Stiles regroups with the pack to find his father who has been kidnapped by the Darach.  Their search leads them to the Nematon, where their confrontation with the Darach reveals her plans and that there is more to being a True Alpha than they know.  Derek and his family's legacy is at the heart of her schemes and when the Darach has him under her control Stiles begins to realise the extent of how much he really cares for the sourwolf.  In true Scooby-doo fashion, the villain has told them of her plans but more shockingly to Stiles she also reveals a very important aspect of his and Derek's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All things share the same breath - the beast, the tree, the man.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the very first fan fic I ever wrote and ever posted back in August 2013 near the end of TW S3A. I always intended to go back to it and tie up all the loose ends and now on this holiday period Xmas 2013 I finally can. So I have left all the notes etc.. that I wrote what feels almost a lifetime ago now so you can see what my thoughts were at the time. I do feel that my writing style has changed over the past 4 or 5 months since I posted this one, hopefully for the better - I tend to think so, maybe it's just practice. So thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy the continuations for this series.
> 
>  
> 
> *** Wow - can't believe I'm doing this, but here goes. My first fan fic ever, out for the world to see and the butterflies in my tummy feel like they're wearing steel-capped boots. 
> 
> I started this fic after watching "The girl who knew too much" and really hoped to get it done before the following episode, but unfortunately RL stepped in and I've only just finished it today, but even after "The overlooked" I decided to keep going. It's more or less my take on what the Darach has been up to and why. So please enjoy.
> 
> It's unbetaed, but if I keep looking it over I'm going to tweak it to death. I do have some ideas for a sequel. Looking forward to any comments. 
> 
> The title is part of a quote from Chief Seattle.

Standing in the root cellar with the smell of damp earth and iron rich, spilled blood clogging his airways Stiles can’t believe this is what the longest most torturous week of his life has led to. Six and a half days of searching for his father and with each body that’s been found, until victim identification had been made, he’d agonized to the point of vomiting. None of the bodies has been his Dad, but somehow he’d known that, believed that if his Dad had die.. gone that he would’ve felt it.

That ‘knowing’ hadn’t stilled the grasping clutching fear that had squeezed his chest, almost like when he’d broken a couple of ribs a few years ago messing around with Scott and a skateboard, it hurt just to breathe. Stiles ached, it was deep in the very core of him, the last time he’d felt it was when his mom.. and now his Dad.. he couldn’t lose his Dad, just couldn’t. 

So he and the pack had worked non-stop to try and find him, dedicating themselves entirely to the search. Missing school and sleep and what Mrs McCall said was nourishing food, to which Stiles said as a joke, it was only fit for rabbits and his Dad, because for a brief moment he’d forgotten and he’d had to walk away from the pack because tears had started to slide down his cheeks and drip off his chin. He was grateful when they pretended not to notice.

Derek was managing to, somehow, be in two places at the same time, the hospital where Cora was mysteriously getting weaker and weaker and the loft with the rest of the pack. How he was staying upright Stiles couldn’t comprehend because seriously the guy never seemed to sleep. Allison’s Dad and Scott’s mom had helped as much as they were able, fielding questions from the authorities and Lydia’s parents in between work and searching. 

Even Peter the creeper, had slithered out from whatever rock he’d been lurking under and Stiles had been initially annoyed, certain that it was solely to provide some scathingly witty commentary at all of their expense, until he’d seen the maps rolled out on the table with the older wolf hunched over them painstakingly matching the flow of the currents to the exact landforms and buildings above them trying to pinpoint any patterns and likely search areas. To say he was surprised was an understatement.

This Twilight Zone that Stiles found himself in, continued with Scott and Derek both coming to him separately offering their respective apologies. Scott, in a stumbling way with his big puppy eyes, for allowing the Darach to defeat him and take Stiles’ Dad and Derek, with the barest minimalist amount of words possible, because somehow he’d been drawn into something deeper with the evil bitch than any of them had known or realised. Stiles was freaked out by both of them. 

Scott, because he maybe a werewolf, but he’s not some invincible superhero, like Batman or something, this is real life and sometimes the bad guys get one over on you. His Dad had told him that. And Derek because.. because it’s Derek and when does he ever apologise or offer explanations, it wasn’t the sourwolf he knew and lo.. liked.. had started to like. The fact that the thought of Derek with her makes him feel sick and a little bit teary after he’d thought they were finally getting closer, as good.. friends, doesn’t help his mood at all. It’s all too weird and Stiles had been too tired and numb to do anything really, but nod his head and even he didn’t know whether that was in acceptance, forgiveness or a ‘screw you’. He hadn’t decided yet.

They’d left him alone after that, although he knew that they were both watching him closely, particularly Derek, concerned maybe that he was going to flip out or have a panic attack. Surprisingly, though for all that was happening Stiles refused to succumb because his Dad needed him and to shut down in a panic attack was starting to look too much like an easy way out. He was exhausted from lack of sleep, but forced himself to take little naps, twenty minutes here, thirty minutes there anything he could to keep his brain alert and himself functioning as much as he was able. He was grateful to be able to talk to Chris, because he was less emotional about the whole situation, more tactical and in some ways that was a relief to be drawing up strategies and battle plans and feel useful than having to lie when people asked him how he was. 

The Darach, he couldn’t bear to call it Ms Blake because he’d actually liked the woman who was his English teacher, had moved on and stepped up her plans. The 3 philosophers were all dead now, the last being a local self-help guru who’d written a number of books on ‘Living in the now’ and ‘Tomorrow’s your yesterday’ or some bull which made not a lick of sense to Stiles and he’d understood “Inception” from the first scene. The next in line were the guardians and 2 had already been sacrificed, a security guard from the local shopping complex and a Park Ranger, from the nearby woodlands and now Stiles was getting very nervous.. terrified if he was honest, because he just knew that the Darach had plans for his Dad now as the last guardian. 

When Derek came bursting in declaring that he’d found a scent trail to the Darach it was all Stiles could do to hover and let the others make a plan of attack. Unfortunately, they are without the Argents. Derek tells him Chris and Allison have been chasing up leads and information from another hunter group at least a day’s drive away and won’t be back until well after nightfall, however, Scott insists and Derek agrees that they can’t and won’t delay and Stiles is fine with that because he was ready to go right then and there all guns blazing.. well that was probably the Adderall talking because he really didn’t like guns at all and he had the sneaking suspicion that it wouldn’t help against a dark druid anyway. But there was no way that bitch was taking out his Dad, Stiles would kill her with his bare hands first.

The Darach has been using the Nematon as its’ hideout, the same one that Derek’s family had been using as a sanctuary when they were alive. Derek’s face is hard and uncompromising as he stalks up and down, berating himself aloud for his lack of insight. "I should’ve thought of the Nematon before.. We could’ve found the Sheriff earlier, those people needn’t have died. I’m an idiot.. it’s all my fault." It’s painful for Stiles to listen to. 

Stiles can literally feel rolling waves of guilt and self-recrimination coming off Derek, it’s so strong that it is almost crippling and Stiles staggers under its weight. He corners Derek away from the others while they scurry to prep for the assault and with his hands holding firmly onto the older man’s forearms he forces him to a stop, well more that Derek allows himself to be stopped. Stiles watches Derek’s face intently even though he keeps it turned to one side, avoiding eye contact and it’s just not the Alpha’s normal behaviour at all to be almost.. submissive. His thumbs rub gentle circles against the soft skin of Derek’s inner arms, tension eases out of the hard muscled body at the soothing touch and Derek eventually turns to look right into Stiles’ eyes.

“Enough.” Stiles says firmly. “Do you think you were the only one to know of this place.. this.. this Nematon? There are at least three people in this room that know of it and none of us recalled it at all, until you were able to track a scent to it after all this time. You know what that tells me?” Stiles waited until Derek quirks an eyebrow at him, silently demanding he continue. “Magic. She put a spell on it to hide it and I think to block it from our memories. This is a dark druid we’re dealing with, anything is possible.” He pauses for a moment and swallows hard. “What scares me the most is that she’s letting us find her now, which means she’s ready.. ready for whatever this is heading to.”

“I.. Stiles.. you..” Derek seems to be at an absolute loss for words until he huffs out a little sigh and tilts his head forward to press his forehead against the younger man’s. They look directly into each other’s eyes, until Stiles’ flutter closed because his focus is all shot and it’s making his head spin, doesn’t quite explain why it makes his heart pound too but it has to be linked he tells himself. Their breaths mingle and Stiles’ lips part unconsciously. For the first time in a long time, Stiles feels the connection between himself and Derek is stronger, feels more like it did when they first met, because even though Derek had bounced him off a number of walls back then there was this inexplicable attract.. recognition between them. 

Now here they were, just below the surface, in an abandoned root cellar with one huge mother of a tree growing right through the heart of it, soft rays of light filtered by a roof of earth and wood crisscross the space, giving it a golden glow. It was familiar and not, all at the same time, like something from a dream or maybe a fairytale. Peter’s fairytale, Stiles’ decides. 

The wolves had attuned their senses to the cellar before venturing in, they’d only picked up the one heartbeat. They find his Dad tied up at the base of the tree, slumped over and bizarrely covered with a blanket. At his feet was a small pool of blood on the ground next to him. Stiles’ heart stopped beating because for one brief moment he’d thought he was too late until he’d caught Derek’s eye and the slight nod that he received from the older man reassured him his father was alive, even if there was blood. His face must’ve given something away though, because Derek mouthed the word “rabbit” and looked at the blood pool. Which of course was the cue for the Darach to step out from behind the tree.

“Good boy Derek. Thank you for bringing them to me.” The Darach was wearing Ms Blake, so her voice was soft and seductive in tone and oh so polite. Yes, the etiquette of dark magic, kidnapping and ritual sacrifice simply demanded that one use their best manners at all times. “Come here, stand by me.”

Derek jerked slightly, if Stiles hadn’t been looking closely at him he would’ve missed it. Derek turned his head to Stiles, his eyes wide showing the whites around his pupils, his legs moved stiffly, boots sliding through the dirt. The unnatural gait told Stiles as surely as Derek’s outstretched hand reaching towards him that the Alpha didn’t have control of his body. 

“Stiles.. I didn’t.. wouldn’t.. betray..” Derek’s voice was unsteady as he moved closer and closer to the beautiful woman unable to stop himself.

“Derek hold on.” Stiles ignored Derek’s denials and went to move and grab the Alpha’s wavering hand and saw out of the corner of his eye that Scott was reaching out to grab his other arm at the same time.

“Uh.. Uhh.” The Darach wagged a finger at Stiles as she held a silver blade to his father’s throat with her other hand, the edge pressing against the pale skin but not piercing it. Stiles froze, anguish tore through him as he saw the threat to his Dad and at the same time the horror in Derek’s eyes at his lack of control. He had to let the wolf go and his heart lurched as he saw the acceptance on Derek’s face as Stiles dropped his hands to his sides. As if he expected it, deserved it.

“Derek.” His voice was shaky, but he needed to let the wolf know he wasn’t deserting him.

“Ok.. ‘s ok.” The whisper reached Stiles and he fought not to cry out knowing that Derek understood him more than most people, what they had both suffered gave them a common bond of pain and loss. Derek knew that he couldn’t lose his Dad, but he didn’t know that Stiles had just realised at this very moment that he couldn’t lose Derek either.

“Don’t you hurt him.” Stiles didn’t recognise the sharp pitch of his voice, knew that Scott had flashed a quick glance at him as if he heard something in Stiles tone that revealed a lot more about Stiles’ feelings towards the Alpha than he dared to acknowledge. 

“Oh Stiles, Stiles. I’m not going to hurt him. I would never hurt Derek.” She reached out and stroked her hand through his dark hair in an obscenely intimate gesture. “This has always been about Derek and I wouldn’t harm one little hair on his precious head.” She threw back her head and started to blow a kiss which freaked him out until he realised as she did so, Stiles can see forming on the floor a thick powdery line of mountain ash which encircles the base of the tree and those people near it. None of the wolves can enter now, but Stiles is slightly relieved that at least Derek is inside the circle with his father and unfortunately the Darach.

“What do you mean this is about Derek?” Peter Hale slid out of the shadows, making Stiles jump because he hadn’t realised Uncle Creeper was actually here. Peter faced the woman who had a knife to the Sheriff in one hand and was petting the large Alpha with her other one like he was a big puppy. It was only the wild roll of his eyes and the grimace on his face that showed Derek had no control of his body and had to remain still and endure it.

“Peter Hale. Well, well. You know at one point in time I really thought this might be you in this position.” The Darach flicked a nod to Derek at her feet. “Have to say I’m kinda glad that’s not the case. Binding magic is quite.. let’s say intimate and you.. well you’re creepy.”

Stiles stifled a hysterical laugh. Even a psycho badass dark druid with a penchant for mass human sacrifice thought Peter Hale was creepy which just reinforced all the ick feelings that Stiles felt being around him.

“Binding magic?” Thank god Lydia was more focused on what was being said. The Darach turned her attention to the strawberry blonde.

“Ahh. Wailing woman come to serenade us again. Perfect timing.” She smirked glancing around the room at the members of the pack. “Binding magic. Exactly how it sounds. One person bound to another through magic. Blood.. sex.. or death magic and if you’re really lucky a combination of all three.” The Darach’s voice was so seductive that Stiles felt the skin at the nape of his neck tingle making his short hair stand on end and instantly forgave Derek for ever being involved with her because it was almost irresistible and my god they knew what a monster she was and still... Imagining that being turned on you when you didn’t know, thought a beautiful woman was into you.. well anyone would’ve succumbed. The quiet in the cellar simply made the sounds of heavy breathing from the group even louder. The wolves eyes were flashing amber and blue in Peter’s case. Lydia’s pupils were blown wide and dark and Stiles guessed his would mirror hers. 

“Stop it.” Derek’s voice was low and cracking, but Stiles took strength from it, because even though the older man was currently on his knees at the Darach’s side, he was still trying to fight. Which seemed to surprise the Darach too. Her fingers in his hair pulled his head back painfully, the awkward arch of his strong neck making Stiles wince in sympathy. She leaned in close, hissing her annoyance at his defiance.

“You’re mine Derek. From the moment you defended me in the school basement.. sacrificing yourself for me with your blood and flesh.. when you touched my hand you became mine.” The Darach eased her hold on Derek’s head and he slumped forward, Stiles met Derek’s eyes willing him to understand holdonweneedyouIneedyou. “Derek’s very nature is one of sacrifice and pain along with the other attibutes I need, he’s simply perfect.”

“What other attributes?” Stiles couldn’t help but ask, he was genuinely curious as to what had drawn the Darach to Derek.

“An Alpha from a true bloodline, preferably one who’d gone blue eyed before red but I was willing to overlook that.” The fond smile she directed towards the Alpha at her feet made Stiles shudder, there were things in her eyes when she looked at the wolf that no human being should ever see.

“Blue because he’d killed an innocent.” Stiles tried to focus. 

The Darach’s laugh was light and tinkling. “Oh who told you that? Silly boy. A wolf’s eyes turn blue when they kill a loved one.. innocence is just a bonus.” Peter made a noise. The smallest gasp of pain and everyone heard.

“A loved one.” Stiles thought for a moment, before looking at Peter. “Laura??”

“No. Though I did love my niece, my eyes were already blue.” His eyes looked glazed to Stiles, as though he were seeing something no one else could. “My wife.”

“Your wife.. my god.. you are..” Scott’s voice was harsh and his eyes were wildly flashing amber and red, disgust for the older man visible on his face. Stiles’ brain was ticking over, connecting the dots that Scott with all his empathy couldn’t see and when he realised he drew in a shuddering breath and a confusing wave of sympathy and horror washed over him, all underpinned by the unease and distrust he felt for Peter.

“The fire.” Said Stiles, Scott looked at him in puzzlement then his face blanched in horror. “You were trapped.” Understanding flashed across the rest of the pack’s faces. Isaac whimpered softly, looking startled for a moment as he realised that noise had actually come from him. Peter huffed out a breath.

“Yes. The fire was so close.. I could feel my skin start to scorch and peel. I tried to keep her behind me.. tried to keep the flames from her but..” Peter closed his eyes. “She begged me and I couldn’t.. I loved her, loved her so much. She started to scream and..” He stopped, opening his eyes and they were the ice blue of an arctic glacier and a lone tear trickled down the plane of his cheek. 

“Peter.” Derek was looking at Peter as if he was seeing his Uncle for the first time in a long time, the one word held so much pain and emotion that Stiles’ heart stuttered, hearing it come from his sourwolf. All the time Stiles’ brain was making connections, when it clicked.

“Everything comes down to sacrifice, doesn’t it? Peter and Derek they had to sacrifice a part of themselves for their loved ones and that makes them more powerful for what you need.” 

“Stiles.. you really are the brains of this operation aren’t you? Magic is powered, fuelled if you will by sacrifice, particularly our brand. The best grains, crops and wines as offerings, a cut on the hand for a few drops of blood, semen pumped into a chalice.. the struggle of an animal with its throat cut, all powerful but.. the most powerful of course is human. Human sacrifice.” She smiles dreamily, most people would imagine it to be of sexy times, but Stiles had no doubt she was recalling a pleasurable moment filled with pain, blood and death. Stiles gut rolled with nausea. The Darach shuddered, seeming to snap herself out of whatever happy place memory was floating her boat. “I need a True Alpha.”

Scott jerked, his hands snapping outwards, claws extending.

“Let them go and I’ll come to you.” Scott’s voice was strong and powerful. Stiles was never more proud to call him his friend than at that moment, knowing Scott was willing to give himself for his best friend’s father and the Alpha who he was starting to understand more and more and call him friend.

“No.” Derek and Stiles’ voices echoed together. Stiles caught Derek’s eyes, a look of perfect understanding flashing between them.

“Now why would I want you, Scott McCall. Could it be because you’re starting to find your Alpha nature on your own without spilled blood?” The Darach looked at him curiously. “Deaton told you that you are a True Alpha didn’t he? That Deucalion wants you? That’s true.” At Scott’s slow nod, she continued. “He wants you in his pack, his personal collection of exceptional Alphas, but he wants the biggest threat of all dead.” It’s all starting to get a bit too Shakespearian for Stiles when she points a finger dramatically towards the Alpha at her feet. “Which is Derek. Scott, you are what the Druids call a True Alpha, what they interpret it to be and it’s all very noble and romantic about strength of character, willpower and denying the kill yada yada but.. Peter why don’t you tell our friends what werewolves really recognise as a True Alpha?”

“Stiles do you remember what I said about Talia Hale being respected by all werewolves?” Seeing Stiles’ slow nod of recognition at the conversation, Peter continues. “Talia was respected because she had power, she could change fully into a wolf, so did Laura. It’s a trait that runs in our family as born werewolves, not all of us have it. I don’t and Derek doesn’t. A werewolf that becomes a full wolf is known amongst our kind as the True Alpha because they can control other werewolves.. not just some, not just the ones they’ve turned but all of them if they so wish.” Derek’s soft whine draws Stiles’ eyes back to him and he can see the understanding in the Alpha’s eyes, what this whole seemingly endless parade of death and sacrifice has been all about. 

“If Derek becomes the True Alpha, you control him and he controls the Alpha Pack and you get your revenge on Deucalion.” Stiles brain has slotted all the pieces together and the picture it reveals is a scheme of such twists and turns that Machiavelli would get a hard on from it. “This whole thing it’s a spell. Something to bring Derek’s wolf out completely, so you get your True Alpha. A True Alpha that’s bound to you.”

“A plus. Such a bright boy. You are going to be such a worthy addition to my pack when this is over.” The Darach seems genuinely pleased at Stiles’ ability to put things together.

“What?” For once Stiles’ brain shuts down in disbelief. He can’t believe it. Had she just said..?

“My pack. I control Derek and Derek as Alpha controls you.” She looks around the room. “You will all be in my pack. One big happy family.. again.” Sorrow and loss softens her voice on the last word. “Even you two..” She tilts her chin towards Scott and Lydia, who somehow without Stiles noticing has come to stand next to his best friend and they are holding hands, no not just holding, clutching, and it is so obvious they are drawing strength from each other that Stiles wonders how an earth he’d missed this development, oh yeah kidnapped Dad.. evil druid. He can’t help the way his eyebrows lift so high it feels like they are saying an intimate hello to his hairline, such is his surprise. “You can’t protect your families and other friends all the time.” Scott’s face turns pale and Lydia’s eyes glisten with tears which she stubbornly refuses to let fall, knowing that what the Darach says is true.

“Leave Stiles out of this.” Derek wrenches his head out of the Darach’s grasp. Breathing heavily, he rests his large hands on his muscular thighs. The Darach leans down as if to whisper in Derek’s ear but her words carry to every square inch of the room, they’re rich with a disgust that she can’t disguise. 

“No. It didn’t take me very long to realise you two are a joint package. I only fucked you because you had to be healed after your run in with the Alpha pack and sex magic does it quite nicely combined with a few other tricks.” Her eyes flick to Lydia who looks nauseous to Stiles, not doubting she’s remembering the creature that lurked in the flames at the Motel, reaping from their suffering and then they focus furiously on him. “Of all the times you had to go on a school trip. He came looking for you for help, knowing he was dying and you weren’t there and so I had to take one for the team. After I’d sworn never again.. not with a wolf.” Her voice wilts and the Darach seems just like any other human at that moment, lost in her own head with painful memories. Stiles is trembling, this is his fault. If only he’d been there, he looks at Derek, realises that he’s spoken aloud when Derek shakes his head furiously.

“No Stiles.. don’t even..” He begins, when the Darach, laughing hysterically, reaches down and grabs Dereks’ crotch, her fingers gouging him brutally, making him wince. 

“I’m really not into you that way Derek, you just don’t have the equipment I find.. appealing.” Her eyes run the length of Lydia’s body and she licks her lips focusing on the teenager’s chest and thighs, a small smile curving those same lips as Lydia shifts nervously. “An Alpha needs his mate. Makes him stronger, heal quicker and if you don’t have him with you, you’ll start to fret.. and maybe pine.. and maybe just maybe die and I can’t have that. We have an Alpha Pack to destroy and once we’ve done that the whole country is potentially our territory.” 

Stiles’ head is reeling at what the Darach is implying, casting aside the idea of the Darach’s apparent plans for future expansion, because in order of importance there’s only one thing he can think of at the moment. Are he and Derek? No, he can’t bring himself to believe it because.. God it’s Derek Hale and he’s like ‘woah’ with a side order of ‘fuck yeah’ and Stiles.. Stiles has no illusions about his own attractions. A ‘woah’ and a ‘hell no’ do not go together in any possible universe or alternate reality he can conceive of.

The Darach places a finger on the centre of Derek’s forehead. “I’ve been watching you all for such a long time now. I could see the mate bond you’ve been forming with Stiles, that you’ve been denying. Is it because he’s a boy? Or is he too young.. jailbait?” Derek’s face is stony as she talks. “Or is it because you’re tainted.. cursed? Everyone you love ends up dead, don’t they Derek?” A small tic starts at the side of his mouth. “Or maybe it’s just that he’s simply too good for the likes of you.” Derek’s jaw bulges as if he’s grinding his teeth together hard, his eyes flash to Stiles and there is something in them, an appeal, a pleading for understanding that makes Stiles heart flutter.

“I must confess I’ve been using the bond to my advantage. Masking it from you both, drawing on it to make me more appealing to you Derek, a bit more like Stiles. It helps the binding, keeps you close voluntarily. But, your bond it’s quite strong now, must be all those times you kept saving each other. I can feel it.. it’s like a caged animal rattling the bars. So here’s a little taste of the real thing, just to whet your appetite and remember now, no touchy. Something that’s been denied for so long, it’s going to come out with a bang. Pun intended.” She laughs wildly, but with a razor sharp edge that makes Stiles cringe inside. 

The second her finger brushes down from his forehead to tap Derek’s nose almost affectionately, he erupts, launching himself to his feet his whole body is quivering and he’s beta’ed out big time. Claws extended, heavy brow and jawline filled with big teeth. His red Alpha eyes are blazing and they are focused solely on.. him. Stiles can’t help the little squeak that escapes him because it feels like the understanding or connection that is between them, it had always felt like a tap left running, trickling feeling out in small doses, and this.. this in comparison was the breached Hoover Dam of emotions slamming into him, making him sway unsteadily on his feet. Hunger, need and dear god.. love was pouring in and all Stiles can do to not drown in it is to push back, letting loose all the feelings, of love, longing and desire he’d felt and suppressed from the very first moment he and Scott had encountered Derek in the woods so long ago now.

When Derek feels it, can feel Stiles acceptance as his mate, his head tips back and he howls in longing and triumph and the other wolves in the cellar join in. Sharing in the Alpha’s joy and acknowledging Stiles as his mate. Even with his hands covering them, Stiles’ ears are ringing from the wolves howling in such an enclosed space, he seems to be the only one affected, then again he is the only conscious true human here. He looks around the cellar, yep. Banshee, werewolf, werewolf, werewolf, dark Druid, werewolf mate, Dad. How did his life get so strange?

The wolves have their heads tilted back as they howl, each of them has a hand pressed to their groins, cupping and rubbing themselves, almost as if they’ve picked up on the hunger that’s flowing between Stiles and Derek. He shouldn’t be surprised, they’re pack, even Scott although he tries to deny he’s a member, he’s got ties to the group which probably lets him pick up on a lot of feels. Lydia has a flush on her cheeks and is biting on her lower lip so its’ obviously got its hooks into her as well and.. good god she’s got her hand on Scott’s crotch and he’s groaning and letting her.. and.. and rubbing is happening right next to him and he jerks his eyes away because that’s what friends do, right? They certainly don’t try and peek out of the corner of their eyes. Bad Stiles.

“Stiles.” The howling trails off and he can drop his hands. Derek’s calling his name again and again and he knows he’s blushing madly because he can feel the heat rise in his face and it’s scorching, but dear God, Derek’s voice. It’s a low rumble, so low that it shouldn’t be technically within the realm of human hearing, but Stiles not only can hear it but feel it too, vibrating in his chest and tugging on something deep in his gut. There is a demand in the tone, one that expects obedience and Stiles trembles because anything Derek wants is so alright with him and at the moment what he’s asking for is that Stiles want him as badly as Derek wants and needs Stiles. Too easy. His cock is already engorged and pulsing and the way his balls are tingling Stiles would only need the wind to change direction over the front of his jeans and he’d be blowing his load.

When he looks to his.. mate, his head spins yes he can say it now mate, Derek seems to not recognise or maybe just doesn’t care that they aren’t alone. It so must be a wolf thing, decides Stiles. A red flush stripes high across Derek’s cheekbones and his nose is flaring and scenting the air and Stiles instinctively knows he can smell how aroused he is. Derek’s panting, open-mouthed, the muscled chest of Stiles’ dreams is moving in and out with each breath at a pace that would suggest that Derek’s just run a couple of marathons back to back, but in reality it’s because he’s so close to Stiles but not close enough. Derek WANTS Stiles. Stiles knows this, because he can feel it through this miraculous bond that is theirs. Not in words, but feelings and it’s so overwhelming that Stiles’ trembling turns into outright visible full-body shaking and for a kid who normally flails, falls and stumbles throughout each and every day, this lack of control over his whole body is too much. He moans brokenly.

“STILES.” Derek’s voice is harsh. “Need to touch you.” His claws are clenching and unclenching over and over, before he rubs them up and down his thighs letting the denim rasp against his palms when Stiles knows it’s actually the trembling pale flesh of his teenage body just out of reach that Derek really wants to, needs to touch. Derek’s head rolls loosely, mouth parted as he groans. “Want you to touch me.” He’s rocking backward and forwards on his heels, feet still locked to the floor where the Darach had unwillingly drawn him to. It’s not really his feet and legs that are driving this rhythm, now that Stiles is looking more closely he can see it’s actually Dereks’ hips starting to pump, seeking friction and wet heat. 

He’s humping the air, but Stiles can guess from the way Derek’s looking at him and groaning harshly, he’s got visions of Stiles right in front of him. Plastered to his front, down on his knees, bent over or variations thereof and Stiles likes the thought of any of these so much that he literally convulses, his stomach and groin muscles clenching so hard and tight that he doubles over, one knee hitting the dirt. Crouching there, moaning Derek’s name long and loud as he cums, each merciless pulse of his cock forces out what feels like gallons of jizz into his boxers leaving him light-headed. The euphoric pleasure is so intense it takes him a while to gather his senses together. God, he can’t believe he’s just had the best orgasm of his life and no one, not even himself, laid a finger on him. An amazing warmth floods through him. He lifts his head to look at his mate’s face. Through the hunger and heat that is burning in Derek’s eyes, he can also see tenderness and sorrow that this, their first time together Derek can’t hold and comfort the younger man through the demands of his own body. Stiles stands, although he’s shaky he’s not going to fall flat on his face either.

The zipper of Derek’s jeans looks like it’s about to burst, because there’s a huge swelling behind it, Stiles winces because ouch at the thought of the restriction and did he mention huge. A damp spot’s starting to form on the front of Derek’s tight fitting Henley right above where his belly button should be and Stiles knows Derek’s not deformed in any way so the lump beneath the damp clinging fabric has to be the head of his dick. An uncontrollable spasm racks Stiles deep in the guts at the realisation. Oh my god, oh my god. His cock is so big it’s pushed its way out of his jeans and its lying against his stomach and oozing pre-cum all over his shirt. 

Stiles feels woozy, he’s just come harder than he ever has in this lifetime and his cock has suddenly decided that Derek needs competition in the ‘how hard can I get’ stakes and he has to look down at his own body to check, surely he’s on fire.. why aren’t there flames licking against his flesh? He’s burning and it’s from the look in Derek’s eyes, the want so clearly there and the connection between them that is filling his senses with love and desire and need. He takes an unsteady half-step forward and Derek growls in encouragement and starts to drag his left foot forward.

Before anyone can move the Darach has brushed her finger against Derek’s forehead again and the flow of emotion between him and Stiles shuts down abruptly, wrenchingly. Derek roars at the Darach, his fury and frustration a tangible thing, and she wags her finger at him like a teacher would a naughty schoolboy and whatever she is doing to him through the binding spell drives him to his knees, tremors visibly running through him. Turning his head Derek looks at Stiles and whines. Stiles wants to run to Derek and wrap around him and keep him safe, he doesn’t because she gives a small delicate cough to draw his attention to the fact that the silver blade at his father’s throat has nicked him and a small trickle of blood has started to run, it’s so fiercely red against the pale skin the contrast blinds him for a moment or is it because there are tears welling, he’s not quite sure which.

“Now, now.” She scolds all of them. “We’re almost there. This first part is going to be quite painful.. for you Derek. This is only the beginning, the change from your Beta appearance to the wolfbeast.” There’s something almost gleeful in her tone and Stiles wants to kill her. Seriously, head removed from body kill her. “Once you are in your wolfbeast form you must make the final sacrifice to complete the change and evolve into your wolf. It’s almost here, the final act.” She’s like the Spielberg of horror and pain, directing everyone to this point in time. Plotting and planning her ultimate revenge. 

Placing her hand fully over the top of Derek’s head, fingers threading through the sweat soaked strands, the Darach drops all pretences and reveals her awful, horrifying visage. Scarred and distorted, the look in her eyes gives proof that in her case the exterior is a true reflection of what she is in her very soul. One crazy, evil bitch. Stiles knows she needs every drop of power now, every ounce of magic that the sacrifices have given her and she is pushing it all into Derek, forcing him to change.

Derek’s writhing beneath her palm, his eyes rolling back and fangs gnashing wildly, snapping at air. He’s thrumming with power his very cells filling with the magic, the air literally vibrating around him, even so for a moment Stiles doesn’t think anything is actually going to happen until he sees a small change. Derek starts to howl his agony and Stiles is dying inside, knowing the pain his mate is going through until it stops abruptly and it’s because Derek’s not physically able anymore. 

His jaw is moving, not from any voluntary motion of tendon and bone, but the actual bones in his jaw are shifting, rippling and extending past the realms of a normal human skull. Then Stiles gasps aloud as he recognises it for what it is, a wolf’s muzzle is forming, human teeth are being forced out and it reminds him bizarrely of his popcorn maker at home, pop, pop, pop teeth jumping out of their sockets to fall onto the floor. Derek groans inhumanly, as a row of canine teeth push out bloodily from his gums. Extremely sharp canine teeth.

Awful crunching, grinding sounds echo around the underground chamber and it’s quite obvious that Derek is being pulled apart inside, bones breaking and resetting while tendons snap so loud it’s like hearing a whip crack. He’s hunched over, spine bending and contorting into shapes that would kill a human, his body bulging outwards in ways that make Stiles want to puke. He can’t stand it.

“Derek! Mate! Look at me.” Stiles calls to him and slowly, agonizingly Derek turns his head to look at his mate. “Don’t fight it.” Stiles knows that’s what Derek’s doing, fighting the change, fighting the Darach with all he’s got and he loves him even more for it, but he can’t bear to watch him in agony. Prays that he’s right, that if Derek goes with it, it won’t be so excrutiating.

For all that his shape is changing so cruelly, so drastically when Stiles looks into his eyes all he sees is Derek, his mate, the man he’s in love with. He’s only been aware of this emotional connection that they have today, so it’s all blind instinct, but Stiles reaches into his very being, probably what some philosophers would call his soul he thinks, and draws out every ounce of love, compassion and respect he has for the other man and he pushes it out praying that it gives some comfort, eyes closing at the effort. Hoping against all hope that the Darach had not closed off the conduit completely, that it was like it was before with that metaphysical tap allowing the tiniest of trickles to get through. 

When it’s not coming back at him Stiles dares to take a peek and sees that Derek is staring at him with awe, in the wolfiest face he’s seen outside of a horror movie. Stiles knows its awe and wonderment and absolutely blinding faith and trust in him, which is the highest compliment that Derek can give – because the man doesn’t really trust anyone or anything, Stiles can feel it coming through the link with his mate. The conduit’s wider than he expected and he realises that the Darach can’t clamp it down not without siphoning off some of the power she’s giving to Derek.

The process seems to be speeding up. Whether it’s because Derek’s letting it happen now or that was the normal progression anyway, Stiles isn’t complaining because he seriously could not keep watching the other man suffer. Yet, he can’t look away because he needs Derek to know he isn’t alone, that Stiles isn’t going to desert him. Derek’s curled up into a ball, he’s not going through the agonies of the damned anymore and he’s stopped writhing like he’s being tortured on hell’s rack, it’s still hurting because he groans and whimpers every now and then, but at least the awful grinding noises have stopped. Hair starts to sprout over every inch of exposed skin, it forms a ruff, thicker and darker, around his neck. Stiles realises it’s to protect the vulnerable throat of a wolf. Derek lays on the floor, panting but still. Finally, it takes them all a couple of minutes to realise it’s over.

Derek gets to his feet, shrugging off the Darach’s hand, he’s huge easily six and a half feet maybe seven and his head is close to brushing the ceiling. His clothes have split seams and gotten tangled and shredded by his claws so he drags the tattered remains from his fur and throws them to the floor. His black pelt covers him from head to foot, it’s thick, but there are patches of pink skin visible through the strands. 

Physically, the closest thing that Stiles can compare him to is the wolf creature from the film ‘Bram Stoker’s Dracula’. That scene sticks with him vividly because Lucy’s red nightgown was riding low and Stiles could see nipples, it was before he’d discovered internet porn and any film with nipples back then was like he’d discovered fucking gold.. anyway the body shape is sort of similar with a deep broad chest, extra long limbs and a face which is a curious mix of man and wolf. His legs are long and powerful, but have the kink at the hip and knee like a dog and it makes him look like he’s permanently ready to pounce or spring.

It’s his face where the true strangeness of it all lies. The bone structure’s changed dramatically, from between his heavy brows a widows peak has formed and long strands of black hair flow back and around pointed ears that wouldn’t look astray on a German Shepherd. Derek’s panting through his open mouth which reveals long, sharp canines and his teeth look scarily white because no human’s would ever get that shade naturally. Set back, behind the length of his muzzle which is curiously only lightly dusted with hairs over skin which is a darker shade almost black, are blazing red eyes. Alpha eyes. They are fixed on Stiles watching him like he’s some tasty treat to eat. Stiles gulps in air nervously.

Something sways at Derek’s groin almost hidden amongst the fur which is slightly thicker there, Stiles doesn’t hesitate to look more closely, he can just make out the shape of a.. holy fuckin’ hell.. if Stiles thought Derek was big as a human, well Derek’s wolfbeast is in possession of a cock that would look more at home out on a baseball diamond then buried deep in.. nuh, so not going there. Ackk! Too late. Derek lifts his head and sniffs the air and homes in on Stiles, who is mortified to realise that all the wolves present will realise that he is seriously digging the other man’s wolfie package.

If a wolfbeast can smirk, then Derek definitely is, with his lips curling back from his muzzle and tongue lolling a little bit out the side. He obviously likes being ogled by his mate, because before Stiles’ very eyes the baseball bat of a cock starts to lift and rise, revealing the huge swinging ball bag below, the darker skinned cock sheath pulls back slightly and Stiles feels like he is being mesmerized by the hint of a pink cockhead that is peeking out. He licks his very dry lips and jumps when Derek growls, although it somehow sounds more like a purr which can’t be right, but he can tell the sound is one of approval, particularly when Derek shifts slightly to allow Stiles a better view of what’s between his legs. 

“SSshhttttilllles.” The growled word causes goosebumps to break out across Stiles arms as he hears his name emerge from a mouth not designed to talk, even so he can hear Derek’s hunger for him in the tone. He breaks out in a sweat, knowing that he’s just flushed beetroot again even if he can’t see it because his skin feels so hot, even the tips of his ears feel like they’re roasting. In some respects, Stiles is quite grateful that his father isn’t conscious because if it’s awkward in front of the people who he’s fought alongside with for all this time then having his Dad witness it would just be too much. An aneurism isn’t inconceivable, because Stiles blood pressure has been through the roof today.

“Oh my.. Stiles you are one lucky boy.. I think.” Lydia also can’t take her eyes off Derek’s package, which is still swelling with arousal, and the bigger it gets the wider her eyes are. “Let me get back to you on that.”

“Hey.” Scott and Stiles exclaim at the same time. Stiles because that’s his mate there thank you very much, every finger licking piece of him and Scott because he’s jealous, even though there’s a noticeable damp patch on his jeans, Stiles can only think that Lydia’s magic lamp experience with Scott’s cock didn’t garner as much admiration and awe as Derek’s public display. But, seriously dude, just look at what was all Stiles. 

“Mr Stilinski if you will. I need you for the second part.” The Darach waved him over, again her silver blade was pressed against his father’s throat and he had no choice. Moving forwards, Stiles feels the squish of cooling cum on his groin and belly ughh! He walks past Derek and for just one brief second Stiles lets his left hand trail behind him and his fingers gently brush against the large furry knuckles of the wolfbeast. Derek whines softly. It’s the merest contact and yet Stiles feels electrified, like his whole body is charged. Love and comfort spills over him through the conduit and he lets it surround him, support him even though he’s terrified that the people he loves the most in the world are in such terrible danger. The Darach turns him in front of her, so he can’t see her. He can feel another knife against the side of his throat, the pricking of silver against his flesh, not painful more annoying, like an insect bite.

“Now here is the most important part and you play a role in this Stiles. We need to sacrifice a guardian to complete the ritual. Derek pay attention you have to choose. Who do we sacrifice, the father or the son?” Derek lets out a furious barking growl, as he strains to reach Stiles and the Darach. Stiles’ head is a little bit woozy his vision greying slightly at the edges, he can hear his friends cries of dismay as though from a distance. Fury and an overwhelming need to protect is swamping the bond between him and Derek, he can feel the wolf’s desperation to get to Stiles and shelter him, it’s making him feel dizzy but he can’t afford to collapse. Not now, not when they’re so close.

“What do you mean? I’m not a guardian.” Stiles can feel his heart pounding.

“Oh don’t be so modest Stiles. I’ve observed you all for quite a while now and with this pack you are definitely its guardian. Stiles you’re always there for everybody, thinking of them first before yourself. You may not realise it, but you keep them together. You must have inherited it from your father, it’s obvious that he’s a guardian, a good one too.” For a moment Stiles thinks the Darach is mocking his Dad, until she continues in a softer, quieter tone. “I remember how kind he was all those years ago when they first found me and brought me into the hospital.. after.” It explains why his father’s in such good condition and covered with a blanket in the cold cellar. Stiles feels the knife against his neck shift slightly, as though a shiver had run through the hand that held it. 

“Derek you have to choose.” The Darach’s voice is back to normal, harsh and uncompromising. “Then you have to kill. You have to make the final sacrifice so the spell is complete and then your True Alpha Wolf will rise. It’s such a difficult choice to make.. I do sympathise. Kill the father and lose the mate or kill the mate and.. well you lose. It’s truly a sacrifice for you either way, but don’t worry I won’t let you pine away before disposing of Deucalion for me. So it’s more a case of win, win. For me.”

“Derek choose me.” Stiles looks into his mate’s eyes and sees agony there. “Not my Dad. Please… just not my Dad. I couldn’t..” Stiles feels like he’s choking on air, knows that the Darach is being the ultimate uberbitch toying with them. She knows a werewolf will do anything to protect its’ mate and fully expects Derek to kill the Sheriff. This is just more of her mind games where she’s trying to get Stiles to hate Derek and make both their lives a misery if they survive. He wants to yell and scream and beg, because he can see in Derek’s wolf-like face that he’s already decided. This is what mate’s do, they protect, they cherish and Stiles knows that it will be his father’s blood that will be staining Derek’s claws. “If you do this, I’ll never forgive you. You’ll have wished you’d killed me, because I could never be the mate of the wolf that killed my father.” Stiles’ voice echoes around the room and he can hear the whines of the other pack wolves, Derek doesn’t whine he just looks at Stiles with the saddest eyes he’s ever seen.

The conduit between them is open and it feels like a flood of emotion is channelling back and forth. Love, sorrow and determination from Derek and anger, resolve and pain from Stiles before he clamps down on it. This is when Derek whimpers, when he can’t feel anything coming from Stiles at all and he sounds afraid. .

Derek nods that he’s made his choice and the Darach releases some of the hold she’s got on him, allowing him to move closer to the Sheriff. He raises his arm and allows his claws to lengthen and sharpen, they become frightening blades. Stiles swallows with difficulty seeing them poised over the unconscious form of his Dad. That’s when Lydia starts to scream and all hell breaks loose.

The Banshee wail is piercing like it’s a living entity, actually trying to climb into his ear canal and burst his eardrums. Stiles doesn’t let it distract him from opening the conduit again and pushing out wave after wave of love, hope and trust. He hopes it’s strong enough to shock Derek for the few seconds he needs, sees it’s working when Derek’s arm starts to tremble and falter and more tellingly Lydia shuts up. An arrow whizzes past him from above, landing squarely in the room, and he knows that it’s the start of the attack and he closes his eyes, the flashbomb attached to the arrow explodes and a brilliant white light floods the room.

Behind him he feels the Darach startle, her hand unconsciously pushes the blade a fraction deeper into his neck. In that moment, he can see the burst of light press against his closed eyelids and knows that he would’ve been blinded just like everyone else is if he hadn’t shut them. Reaching into his jeans pocket he pulls out a vial pops the lid and flicks the contents over his shoulder right into the Darach’s face and instantly she’s gasping and wheezing, pushing him away from her and rubbing at her eyes and face. It’s a combination of mistletoe and the ash from a sacred oak that Deaton blessed with the ritual words that Stiles had found after endless hours of research. A ritual that even Deaton was ignorant of, but it seems to be doing the trick and he’s relieved because it was a gamble. She’s not going to just disappear on them, the powder’s blocking her powers ensuring that she stays in one place, right here, right now and long enough for them to kill her.

Another arrow comes firing in at his feet breaking the line of mountain ash and Stiles looks up the length of the tree and sees Allison peering down at him from above, the tree has broken through the wooden floor that is at ground level and there’s enough of a gap for a slender girl with a bow and arrow to settle into position and help him ambush a dark druid. He grabs the arrow and pulls off the sharpened oak stake that’s attached to it, a small portion of his mind is able to admire the beautiful markings carved into it, and without hesitation he turns and slams it into the Darach’s chest. Stiles pushes with all his strength and is amazed and vaguely disturbed that he really doesn’t feel much resistance as it buries deep and their momentum carries them back to the tree and the Darach is pinned there like a giant bug. 

The tree groans, it’s the only way Stiles can describe it, it literally groans and the marks that have been carved into the tree trunk start to glow. It’s drawing power from the currents, Stiles knows this because when he had been looking over the Argent’s maps of Beacon Hills he’d realised that this tree and cellar was sitting smack above one, the power is being pushed into the Darach through the stake, it’s markings are starting to glow. He grabs the silver knife she dropped and quickly races to his father and starts sawing through the ropes binding him, it’s going to take forever and he doesn’t want his Dad anywhere near this tree as it does it’s mojo thing with the Darach.

“Derek. Come on.. cut him free.” Stiles calls on his mate to help him and all this time he’s been sending through love and reassurance through their bond and he’s just now starting to get something back that’s more than uncertainty and bewilderment. It’s still overwhelming love, but there is pride now, Derek is so proud of his mate his eyes glow with it. The Darach being a bit preoccupied has let her hold on Derek go and he can move freely now. With one slash of his razor sharp nails Derek’s sliced through all the ropes and they’re pulling the Sheriff away, Stiles holding his Dad to his chest relieved to feel his pulse is steady under his fingers and his breathing is even and normal. The Darach for reasons only known to herself, Stiles likes to think it’s because of what she said earlier about his Dad being awesome, had even healed the wound where the knife had been buried deep in his chest. Derek is crouched protectively in front of Stiles and his Dad, he’s growling a constant low warning rumble that if anything tries to get past him, they’re going to come away with a few missing parts.

The tree has sifted through the Darach’s stolen power and drawn it out of her and distributed it into the current to be cleansed. What is left pinned to the tree is an animate shell, a husk. The Darach’s head turns, sunken eyes burn with hatred still but she is powerless, defeated and she knows it. They all do, they can feel it. 

“You’re fools. The Alpha Pack is going to tear you apart.. tear you apart like they did to me.” Her voice is wheezy and Stiles wants to gag because he can hear her tongue in her mouth as she speaks and it sounds like old newspaper, dry and crackling.

“You’re wrong.” Scott is walking forward and Derek allows him to approach Stiles. Scott places one hand on Stiles’ shoulder and the other on Derek’s arm. “We’re the Hale Pack and no one is tearing us apart.” Stiles can feel the joy that Scott’s words give to Derek and the tenative bond of brotherhood that is reaching out to Scott from his mate, which must be part of a pack’s magic he decides. He feels it only faintly, probably because he isn’t a wolf and he’s only experiencing it through his connection with his mate, but he does know when Scott latches onto that bond with one of his own and both wolves sigh in contentment. Peace between them at last.

“Stiles.” Chris Argent is standing in the centre of the room, his eyes never leaving the Darach pinned to the tree, his crossbow unswervingly pointed to her. Deaton is on Chris’ far side and the look on his face is filled with absolute sorrow. “We have to finish this now.” 

Stiles lowers his father gently to the floor and stands, helped by his mate and his best friend. Deaton hands Stiles a sword, it’s long and heavy and the engraved design down its length looks like an oak tree its branches twisting wildly, extending from a solid trunk. He’s not sure he can do this, not sure he wants to. Knows he’s been broadcasting loudly for over the past week that he wants to be the one that puts an end to her, for what she’s done to his father and Heather and all the other people that were killed by her in the name of revenge. But.. isn’t there always a but, he’s here now looking at the tip of the sword digging into the dirt and he just can’t. It will change him irrevocably, how can it not, and he doesn’t want that. He likes the Stiles he is right now, the Stiles that Derek loves right now. He’s still thinking when a massive paw covers his hands that are wrapped tight around the hilt.

Jerking his head up, Stiles can see Derek looking at him and through their connection he can feel so much love and understanding that it makes his chest feel tight and eyes brim. Stiles shakes his head at Derek, knows that he’s offering to do this for him but he doesn’t want that either. Derek carries such a lot of weight on his shoulders already that Stiles doesn’t want to add anymore. 

He never ever thought he’d say this, he’s glad Peter is here. From Stiles right another hand reaches out and grabs the hilt from his fingers. Peter’s ice blue eyes flash at Stiles as he hefts the sword in his hand, testing its weight and balance.

“I’ve got this.” He says quietly, before walking up to the tree and the Darach staked to it. He lifts the sword in position, ready to swing straight and true when the Darach turns her head seemingly looking straight at Stiles, Derek and Scott. Peter’s shoulders and arms tighten, muscles straining, as he swings the sword back and.. the Darach starts to speak.

“He won’t change. He can’t now. You’ve broken the sp..” The blade slices clean through her neck and Stiles’ stomach lurches violently at the sight of her head dropping to the ground and bouncing like a macabre basketball. He wonders about what she said at the end, of course Deucalion can’t change, he’s off his werewolfy rocker and after all he’s done there’s no going back. He turns his head away and is happy to see that he’s not the only one, Scott’s stepped around, his back to the tree and is blocking Stiles’ view quite nicely of the head on the ground. 

Deaton has moved to the tree and the words he speaks are in a language that Stiles doesn’t recognise but there is a soothing quality to them, he throws leaves over the body and flames start to lick at the Darach’s remains. The funny thing is Stiles can’t feel any heat from them or smell smoke or burning flesh, which don’t get him wrong is a good thing, but it means that the flames are of the magical kind and so it’s not a surprise when there is a small flash of light and when he is able to blink away the spots before his eyes he can see that the Darach is gone. Not a trace remains, it’s like she never existed.

Stiles finds himself in the embrace of his pack. His wolfbeast grumbles possessively, too many hands, too many others touching what’s his. Stiles sends love and longing to his mate, happy when he hears a satisfied huff followed by a low rumbling growl that promises more things than Stiles can even imagine. The pack’s gathered around him touching his arm, back, ruffling his hair anywhere they can reach. He can feel their pride in him, knowing that he’s the cause of their victory and their bewilderment at what’s just happened. Allison nudges Isaac out the way with a hip and shoulder, smirking at the blonde werewolf whose eyes follow her worshipfully, the pedestal he’s put her on has just gotten higher Stiles decides before wrapping his arms around the teenage huntress.

“It worked.” She whispers in his ear, relief profoundly evident as she returns his hug tightly.

“What worked?” Scott asks, curiously. Amber eyes flashing between his best friend and his ex-girlfriend. 

“Stiles’ plan.” Chris Argent reaches out and grabs Stiles shoulder in a firm grip and squeezes in approval. “Your Dad is going to be very proud of you when he hears about all this.”

“Dad!” Stiles should kick his own ass, his Dad’s still unconscious on the floor and they really need to get him to a hospital. He pushes his way out of the group huddle and kneels on the floor next to his Dad. Deaton crouches on the other side of him and gives Stiles a reassuring smile.

“I think she’s given him a sedative, so he’ll sleep for a few more hours yet. Don’t worry Stiles he’s fine, she’s healed him exceptionally well for someone who was going to ritually sacrifice him. Take him to hospital and get him checked over but I really don’t think you need to worry about him at all.” Deaton stands and pats the top of Stiles head in a comforting way and he can finally let the breath he’s been holding out, the big whoosh of air blows out between his lips as relief washes over him. The tension leaching out of his body and whatever’s been holding him together over the past days and nights is gone and Stiles wants to curl up into a little ball and cry. 

Stiles grabs his Dad’s hand and holds it to his chest. In the background, he can hear the Argents telling the rest of the pack about Stiles plan. He’d known that at some point they would confront the Darach again, it was inevitable. After Scott and Derek apologising he’d realised that for some reason everything was revolving around Derek and began his plans with Chris and Deaton, because awful as it was he didn’t know if Derek had been compromised in anyway. He’d asked Chris to be back up, so their visit to a supposed group of hunters was merely a deception, Chris and Allison were always within close range ready to come in behind the rest of the pack. 

The biggest difficulty was doing it without letting the rest of the pack know as their reactions had to appear true with the Darach, particularly Lydia’s. Stiles had known his father’s life was always going to be under threat and Lydia’s Banshee cry at an imminent death was going to be the signal for the Argent’s to attack. With some research and Deaton’s help they were able to create the powder that weakened the dark druid so drastically and prevented her from fleeing and Deaton made the stake from oak and carved the sacred symbols into its length, that drew the stolen power from the sacrifices and returned it to the oak and then to the currents. The moment Derek announced he’d found the Darach’s scent, their plans were set in motion.

A heavy weight drapes across his back, large arms wrapping around him, holding him close. Stiles breathes easier at the feel of his mate, his Derek, against him. Hot breath fans against his cheek and neck as Derek nuzzles him lovingly. Reaching up to caress his face, Stiles can feel the muzzle of his wolfbeast and laughs giddily as his long tongue licks a wet hot stripe from his collarbone to just under his ear. It’s damp and kind of sexy as well and Stiles thinks he’d better get used to it, because he’s got a hot Alpha as a mate and there are going to be many, many more sexy times between the two of them if he has any say in the matter. And doesn’t he always have something to say, so that’s a definite yes.

“Can you change back ‘cause I think I want to kiss you? No, I know I want to kiss you.” Stiles whispers softly and hears Derek’s soft growl of approval. Love and hunger is flowing between them and Stiles is feeling so good and happy that when a tendril of fear spikes through the matebond from Derek he is immediately alarmed. Tilting his head he can see that Derek has his eyes closed, but he’s still in the form of a wolfbeast. He looks like he’s concentrating and Stiles doesn’t really want to interrupt or anything but the fear is getting stronger and with it comes doubt and what feels an awful lot like shame. Stiles turns in Derek’s arms and grabs his wolfbeast’s face between both hands.

“What’s wrong Derek?” Stiles is panicking now and Derek opens his eyes and tries to soothe him with a low comforting rumble, but it can’t work not when Stiles can feel exactly what Derek does and it’s scared and frightened. “Change back. Derek, come on you can do it.” Stiles tries to be encouraging but in his head he can hear the Darach saying that – he won’t change, he can’t now, you’ve broken the sp.. – Fuck he’s an idiot, it wasn’t about Deucalion it was about Derek. Dear God, she was telling them that they’d broken the spell, literally stopped it right in the middle. Derek’s freaking stuck in the shape of his wolfbeast and Stiles is a little bit scared that the Darach was about to tell them it’s not reversible.

Derek’s eyes are not red anymore they’re the beautiful light green they’ve always been and what absolutely guts Stiles is that he can see one big fat tear welling up and overflowing from one of those beautiful eyes and trickling down Derek’s muzzle. He can hear the pack behind him, stirring fearfully as they realise something terrible has happened, but he ignores them for the moment focusing on his mate in front of him. The mate he loves with all his heart and as he thinks it, he feels it and pushes it out of himself and into Derek through the wide open mate bond that they share. Derek whimpers and pushes his muzzle into Stiles’ neck drawing his mate’s scent deep into his lungs, while Stiles wraps his arms as far around the other man as he can, feeling Derek’s love for him but also a terrible grief that makes his eyes well up.

“It’s okay Derek. It’s okay. We’ll find a way. You’ll see.” Stiles whispers the words into the thick ruff at Derek’s neck and prays with everything he has, everything he is that it’s the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> Two days later since first posting - I've been really overwhelmed by the positive response I've had and can't believe people are actually reading and enjoying my work. So, I'm making this into a series and will be changing the tags etc.. to reflect that. I'm in the meantime, working hard on the next part and hope to bring it to you asap. Much love and thanks to you all who took the time to read this nervous-as-hell first timer's debut. :D


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